


I fucking -hate- love you

by NarryMusings



Series: Of First Words, Etched Into Skin [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Mentions of self-harm, Soulmate - First Words, mentions of depression, mentions of gore (sort of), mentions of self-mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:44:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryMusings/pseuds/NarryMusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What do you mean they don't know about me?"</p><p>Niall watches Harry shift, watches him loosen and then tighten his hand on the steering wheel, watches him bite at the inside of his cheek. He narrows his gaze when the brunette doesn't answer, reaches forward to mute whatever pop song is playing on the radio. "Harry."</p><p>"I mean- They know about you, they just don't...know about you," Harry corrects, offering Niall an awkward smile. His grip tightens, again, on the steering wheel.</p><p>"Forgive me if I don't know what the difference is," Niall deadpans. "What exactly did you tell them, Haz?"</p><p>Harry hesitates – and Niall can see the movement in his jaw, that Harry’s biting his cheek. A nervous tick.</p><p>"I swear, Harry-"</p><p>"That you were my friend."</p><p>Niall blinks. "Friend?"</p><p>Harry sighs. "I-"</p><p>"I wasn't aware you let your friends suck you off in gas station loos on the way to meet your parents for the first time. Did Nick get to do it too?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I fucking -hate- love you

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo... Hii.
> 
> This wasn't really supposed to be a thing, but I got to talking to Ryan and, well, here's... This.
> 
> Note: Some part are pretty graphic. So if you're triggered by anything mentioned in the tags, then this your warning to read at your own risk.
> 
> Happy reading!

I fucking ~~hate~~ love you

 

"What do you mean they don't know about me?"

Niall watches Harry shift, watches him loosen and then tighten his hand on the steering wheel, watches him bite at the inside of his cheek. He narrows his gaze when the brunette doesn't answer, reaches forward to mute whatever pop song is playing on the radio. "Harry."

"I mean- They know about you, they just don't...know about _you_ ," Harry corrects, offering Niall an awkward smile. His grip tightens, again, on the steering wheel.

"Forgive me if I don't know what the difference is," Niall deadpans. "What _exactly_ did you tell them, Haz?"

Harry hesitates – and Niall can see the movement in his jaw, that Harry’s biting his cheek. A nervous tick.

"I swear, Harry-"

"That you were my friend."

Niall blinks. " _Friend?_ "

Harry sighs. "I-"

"I wasn't aware you let your friends suck you off in gas station loos on the way to meet your parents for the first time. Did Nick get to do it too?"

Harry opens his mouth to protest, only to close it again, and Niall finds himself rolling his eyes as he settles back in the passenger seat and turns his head to look out the window.

They’ve been driving for just over two hours now, from London to Harry’s hometown of Holmes Chapel. About 10 minutes ago, they’d stopped at a gas station to fuel up. Two minutes after filling up, they’d found their way to the loo in the back and Niall had dropped to his knees.

He's definitely _not_ sucking Harry's dick on the way back at the end of the weekend though, that's for damn sure. 

"I had told them about you right after we started dating, Ni,” Harry says softly. I just...didn't tell them that you're my soulmate. They just think we're roommates and best friends, and that that's why you're coming home with me. I didn't know how to correct them."

"Could've just told them the truth," Niall mutters. "That usually works. I know from experience." There’s a bitterness in his voice, but that’s only because Niall had gone and announced to both of his parents that he’d finally met his soulmate a mere two weeks after actually meeting Harry. And here they are, 13 months later, on their way to see Harry’s family – and it’s Niall’s first time – and Harry had yet to tell them that Niall is his _soulmate_ …

"I'm sorry. I'll tell them as soon as I get a chance to."

Niall hums, rolls his eyes.

"They just... They might not take it well."

The blond arches a confused eyebrow. "Why not?"

"They've never really been a fan of the _words_ …"

"Oh..." And, well, now Niall feels like shit. He shifts, in his seat and reaches his right hand out to rub over the spot where Harry’s Tattoo is – on his left shoulder blade. It’s almost like he can feel it through the material of Harry’s jumper. "I mean, yeah, I just- They'd have to know I didn't mean them, yeah? That I don't mean them, at all."

"Of course," Harry says reassuringly. 

"But you still don't think they'll take it well."

Harry smiles softly as he reaches across the console to slip his fingers between the spaces of Niall’s other hand."They'll get over it. And then they'll love you, because _I_ love you and you're my _soulmate_."

And, well, Niall had never really given what Harry's family would think of him a thought before now. He hadn’t even really been all that nervous. Now, however… Now there’s a lump stuck in his throat, and butterflies in his stomach and he’s…almost terrified.

He really hopes that Harry is right.

X

Niall freezes the minute he steps out of the car. He’s suddenly far more nervous than he was just few minutes when they’d turned into Harry’s old neighbourhood. His heart feels like it’s in his throat now, and he feels sort of…sick with nerves. What if Harry’s parents hate him? What if Gemma, Harry’s sister, can’t stand him?

"I can't do it," he mutters, when Harry walks around the back of the car to where Niall’s standing, feet all but glued to the floor.

"Ni-"

Niall shakes his head. "I can't go in there."

"Niall-"

Niall turns to his soulmate, sees that he’s holding one of his bags, as well as Niall’s. He must have gotten them both out of the trunk when Niall was lost in thought. "They'll hate me, Harry. Like, for real – they're going to hate me."

"They're not going to hate you," Harry says, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against Niall’s cheek. "They might be a little bit weird about it, but they couldn't you. It'll be fine, I promise."

X

Anne just stares at him, gobsmacked and more than a little disappointed. Her lips are pursed, replacing the beautiful, bright smile she'd had but a moment before, when she’d greeted her son with loving, open arms.

Robin, Harry’s stepdad, glowers. He looks angry and aggravated, his hands balled into fists at his sides as though it’s taking great effort not to clock Niall in the face.

And Gemma... She looks entirely removed, her gaze empty and her face a blank state – right up until she slaps Niall straight across the face before storming off towards the staircase at the front of the house. It stings, and his ears are ringing as the sound of flesh on flesh echoes within the kitchen. The sound is accompanied, then, by that of a door slamming shut upstairs.

Harry tends to Niall immediately, takes Niall's face in his hands, asks if he's okay, runs his thumb over his reddened cheek, asks if he needs water-

And then Gemma's boyfriend, Dustin, follows Gemma's leave in the same direction she'd taken off in, and Anne turns on her heel to walk out the back patio door with Robin on her heels-

And it's just the two of them. Niall and Harry. Harry and Niall. Alone – in Harry’s childhood home.

Niall isn't sure whether he wants to cry or laugh. He feels incredibly out of place, like he’s trespassing or something. His cheek still stings, but more than that: his heart sort of hurts because he’d been right. Harry’s family hates him. How are they meant to soulmates – to be together forever – if his _soulmate’s family_ can’t stand him?

"I'm sorry," Harry whispers, curling both arms around Niall’s shoulders whilst standing behind him. He rests his chin on Niall’s shoulder. "I should have told them sooner, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't," Niall murmurs, resting the back of his head back against Harry’s shoulder. "It's not your fault. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

Harry scowls. "Niall-"

"Just- Go check on them," Niall says softly, twisting himself out of Harry’s arms – much to Harry’s protests. "I'll...go sit out front for a while."

"But Niall-"

"They're your family, Haz. And they're upset, just- Go talk to them."

"You should be there too."

Niall snorts. "Should I, really?"

"Yes, because-"

Niall reached up to run a hand through Harry's hair, lets it settle on the back of his neck where Niall rubs gently and soothingly at the muscles that have become tense there. "I think this is a family thing. I'll be fine."

Harry looks reluctant, but he turns to leave anyway. And Niall could really use from fresh air.

X

The next time they're all in the same room, they're all sat around the dinner table. There's food, plated up all up the middle atop a floral table runner; steaks, salads, mashed potatoes, condiments. It’s quiet, for the most part; reserved – and Niall feels incredibly out of place. 

It's awkward, is the thing, and Niall isn't an idiot. He knows why it's awkward; knows he's the reason.

Anne has come around, but only slightly – and only for Harry's sake, Niall can tell. Robin's been eyeing him all evening, and he seems incredibly unimpressed. And Gemma just...refuses to look at him. The only person, apart from Harry, who doesn't treat him like an outsider is Dustin, who talks to Niall about football and golf and music – even over dinner. 

"So, your taste in music is great but your taste in a football club is, well- _Derby_ speaks for itself," Dustin says, smirking before shoveling a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"I blame me father."

"What about your golf swing?"

Niall shrugs. "Like to think I have an alright swing."

"It's better than mine," Harry points out. 

"That's not hard," both Dustin and Niall say teasingly, at the same time. 

Harry frowns dramatically. "Heyyy."

Niall reaches a hand out, brushed his fingers through Harry's hair affectionately. He forgets that everyone is eyeing him. Forgets, for a moment, how much tension is in the room. "It's okay, babe. We still love you."

Gemma shifts uncomfortably beside Dustin, whilst Anne looks down at her plate. So Niall snatches his hand back, and places it down between his thighs.

"So, Niall," Robin says, clearing his throat. It’s the first time he’s truly acknowledged Niall since they arrived three hours ago. "Of the things Harry _did_ tell us about you, he said that you're studying sound engineering."

Niall nods, clears his throat. "I am, yes."

"Why?"

"Music is one of my passions, and it's the only one I have any kind of shot at,” Niall replies. “I'm no pro-golfer, and I blew my knee out when I was 12 

playing football, so football is out of the question, and I've always been really interested in the producing and technical side of music. That, and I'm not that great of a singer, so-"

"He's lying," Harry interrupts, a smile tugging at his lips. "He's a great singer. And he's really good at songwriting too."

Niall rolls his eyes fondly. "I've only written one song, and it's about you, so- You have to say that."

"Well, yeah, but- You're also really good. Even Breslin thinks so."

Dustin’s eyebrows crinkle in curiosity. "Who's Breslin? Why does that sound familiar?"

"He's a singer/songwriter turned producer in London. Niall's been interning with him through school. They're even talking about going into business together to open a recording studio in Ireland. They hope to be able to bring up more Irish artists in the industry." Harry curls an arm around the back of Niall's chair, stares at him lovingly.

Niall can feel the blush heating up his cheeks, as well as the daggers that Gemma shoots both of them over her glass of sangria. "Anyway, yeah-“ He pauses, shifts himself forward so that he’s away from Harry’s arm. “That's why I'm studying sound engineering."

"That's actually really impressive," Dustin says. 

Gemma stands up abruptly from the table at that. "If you'll excuse me, I need some air." And then, before anyone can say otherwise, she’s gone outside through the back patio door

Harry sighs, and makes to follow her when Niall grabs his hand-

"Could _I_ go?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Harry mutters.

And, well, Niall agrees – mostly because he’s mildly afraid of what Gemma might do to him if she gets him alone. But he has to try. He feels responsible – and he knows he’s the reason for her…discomfort – and he needs to figure out how to fix it. He needs to be the one to reach out to her first. "I'd like the chance to try. That is, if that's okay with you two," he says, looking at both Anne and Robin. 

"Y-yes, yeah," Anne says softly, as though she’s surprised. "Go ahead."

"Provided she'll let you," Dustin says, then. "She gets a bit testy, that one."

Niall closes the door behind him softly, and Gemma must sense, somehow, that it's him because she doesn't even acknowledge him. She does, however, let him sit next to her on the bench swing at the end of the porch. Her shoulders are tense and her arms are crossed over her stomach, but she lets him. "The first time I met Harry, he told me that Dumbledore died."

Gemma's brow furrows, but she doesn’t look at him. "What are you talking about?"

Niall pushes his sleeve up his forearm to reveal the tattoo. _Mate, I can't believe Dumbledore died._ She looks, but only at his arm, and only for a brief moment. "I immediately got defensive, and I told him... _his words_. I was angry, and frustrated because I'd spent the majority of my life worrying myself sick over some bloke named Dumbledore – and I didn't know for sure if he was a real person, or if he was, in fact, _Albus Dumbledore_. I was too afraid to read the books, and then have my heartbroken like that if it was. And the easiest thing to do in the world, in the moment after Harry said that, was to blame him.

"It just...came out. Like- Word vomit, or something. I didn't...I didn't mean it. I've never meant it. And I would never have chosen to say it to him – especially now that I'm getting the vibe that it was harder on him than he's ever let on to me.

"I'd never hurt him, Gemma. Not intentionally – and not like that."

His admission is met with a long, steady silence, during which he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He doesn’t push her. He can’t push her, not about this.

"I've hated you for so long," Gemma says, finally. Her voice is soft, and yet simultaneously edgy. "He's been through so much...pain because of those words, and I've never hated anyone, but I really do fucking _hate_ you for doing it to him."

"Will you tell me about it?" Niall asks softly.

Gemma looks at him, properly, for the first time since he's joined her. "He really hasn't told you?"

Niall shakes his head. "He says it doesn't matter now that we've found each other. He never talks about it."

"I'm not sure you want to know."

"I do,” Niall breathes. “It would make me understand – _more_ – why you can barely stand to look at me, and why your mum is two seconds away from forbidding me to see him." Not to mention, it would finally answer the questions he’s never really been able to ask Harry. It would be from an outside perspective, but perhaps that’s better. Perhaps it’s more organic, somehow.

"Please, Gemma,” he whispers, when she doesn’t answer. “I know you don't owe me anything, but... Please."

Gemma moves herself around so that she’s facing Niall, lifts her feet up onto the bench in front of her and wraps her arms around his knees. "He talked about killing himself when he was 12... Bought into the mean things the kids would say to him on the playground at school; that he's unloved, that if his _soulmate_ couldn't even love him, then who could, that he was a waste of space... He thought things would be easier if he just...disappeared. Thought he'd save himself the trouble of having to actually _hear_ the words, as well save his soulmate from saying them. He never tried it, would never have gone through with it, probably, but the thought was there and it was... It was so fucking wrong.”

Niall’s heart hurts, thinking about a young, impressionable child thinking he’d be better off dead. His soul hurts wondering if Harry could have ever done it, and what would have happened if he had.

"When he was 14, _I_ met _Dustin_. I came home, over the moon and squealing – gushed to mum about it for ages before I realized that Harry had heard everything. He'd tried to smile, tried to take part in my excitement and happiness, tried to not let it get to him... But I knew it had, so I went to check on him before bed that night. He was alone, and he was crying, and he tried to pretend that he wasn't – wiped his eyes and his cheeks and plastered a smile to his lips...but then I just stared at him, and he burst into tears again. So I crawled into bed with him, and I played with his hair the way mum used to whenever he was upset, and we fell asleep like that."

"He loves you so much," Niall says softly. "He admires you, looks up to you... Talks about you all the time."

Gemma smiles, though she ducks her head as if to hide it from Niall. And then- "He tried to get rid of it – the tattoo – when he was 15 years old."

And…Niall wasn’t expecting that at all. What? "H-How?"

"A steel wool pad."

Niall blinks in response, feels all the colour drain from his face. "What?"

"Mum was working late, Robin was out of town on a business trip, and I got home from Dustin's house after school to hear Harry sobbing from inside the kitchen. I dropped everything and I ran to get to him, and- Blood was everywhere, Niall."

The blond feels sick to his stomach, feels all the air leave his lungs, feels his heart all but jump into his throat.

Gemma looks like she’s far away. Her eyes are glazed over, her cheeks are flushed… She runs a hand through her hair and lets out a shaky breath."The second he saw me he started screaming for me to make it go away. _'Gem, make it go away! Gemma- Please, Gemma, make it go away!'_

"So I got a few cloths – and an ice pack from the freezer, to wipe up the blood and try to numb the pain, but... Then I realized it wasn't the pain he was talking about, and it wasn't even his wrist that he was cradling. It was his forearm, right below his elbow. The tattoo had-"

"Moved," Niall says, lips pursed, mouth dry like sandpaper. "They move when something damages it. Greg – my brother – sliced open his calf playing rugby in secondary school, and his tattoo disappeared, and then reappeared a little while later on his other calf."

"Yeah, well, he didn't know that. He thought he could just...scrape it away, and then it didn't go away. The blood was messy, and his wrist was messed up, but the worst thing about it was that he wasn't... He wasn't crying because his wrist hurt – he wasn't even in pain because of his wrist. He was in pain because he couldn't escape it, because he tried to get rid of it and he couldn't. He just wanted to not have to see it every single day, that's all he wanted.

"He wasn't begging me to make his wrist stop hurting; he was begging me to make his heart stop hurting."

Niall lets out a breath he didn't even know he's been holding as he leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together as he stares at the ground beneath them. He doesn’t even know when he’d sat up straight.

"He wanted it so _badly_...and I literally couldn't give it to him. Do you know how hard that was?"

Niall shakes his head, pushes himself to his feet. His legs are shaky, but he needs to walk. He needs to do something – anything.

"Do you know how hard it was to see him in pain, every single day, and know that you can't even fix it?"

And, well, no. Niall doesn't know what that's like, doesn't know how hard it is. In part, because Harry has never told him, but also because Niall's just sort of always been able to fix things, just by telling Harry that he _loves_ him.

"I'm," Niall starts, pausing to swallow hard around the lump in his throat as he shoves his hands into his pockets, "I'm sorry. He never should have had to go through that... You shouldn't have either. I didn't- I wish-

"I wish I knew what to say," he whispers, continues. It makes him sick to think about it. It makes him feel heartbroken, and angry, and it’s no wonder Gemma hates him. Niall kind of really hates himself right now too. "I can't take it back, but I wish I could. I wish things could have been different for him – for both of you...all of you. If I had known – if I'd had any idea, I-"

"I believe you," Gemma says softly, looking up at him from the bench. Her gaze is a bit softer now. “I do, Niall. I believe you. I’d be an idiot not to.”  
"Can you forgive me?"

"Not right now. But maybe eventually. I just…need time."

And Niall nods, because that’s good enough for him.

Gemma pushes herself to her feet, wraps her arms around her torso. "Just...love him, okay? Please? He deserves all the love in the world, so just- Never stop loving him. Never stop showing him, in whatever ways you can. Never let him question it."

Niall smiles gently, as he rubs at his wet eyes with the sleeves of his jumper. "I won't."

X

They come back inside together, to find everyone staring at them. Harry's the first to do anything; pushes himself to his feet, away from the dining room table, and goes straight for Niall. He holds Niall's face in his hands, kisses him softly, tenderly. And then he turns to Gemma, albeit a bit warily, and cradles her face too, looks at her like he’s looking for something.

"Relax, would you?" she murmurs. "I'm fine, he's fine, and- _We'll_ be fine, eventually."

"Love you," Harry whispers, presses it into her forehead.

"Does this mean we can finally have dessert now?" Dustin asks, earning a gently slap against the back of his head by Gemma. 

Everyone disperses, then, and disappears into the kitchen with their plates and cutlery. It leaves Niall and Harry alone. 

"Hey," Niall says softly, slipping his hand into Harry’s.

Harry smiles. "Hi."

"I love you."

"She told you, didn't she?” Harry asks, his voice a whisper. “About the steel wool?"

Niall nods. "Among other things,” he murmurs, lifting Harry’s hand. He runs his thumbs over the black and white _anchor_ etched into the skin of his wrist, where _his words_ should be; where they once were. He’s admired this tattoo numerous times – has admired all of them, countless times. He’s never seen scar. Not on his wrist, and not on his forearm, beneath the _bible_. “And you, my _soulmate_ , are going to have to explain to me why your Tattoo is no longer on your forearm." He strokes his thumb over the black and grey bible, then, as he looks into Harry’s face.

"Eventually," Harry whispers. "I love you too."

X

Niall's lying on Harry's childhood bed, the sheet pulled halfway up his torso. He's been thinking a lot about what Gemma told him all evening. Actually, he _couldn't_

He hates himself. Hates that he was the reason for Harry's pain each and every day of his life, until the day they met. Hates that he was the reason for Harry's family's pain. Hates that it's because of him, that Harry was so guarded when they first started dating; hates that it's because him, that Harry was afraid to let Niall in; hates that it's because of him, that Harry still won't let him in.

"Hey."

He blinks, and focuses his gaze on the face only a few inches away from his own. Harry's straddling his lap, bent down with a hand planted into the mattress on both sides of Niall's head. "Hey," he murmurs back.

"Where'd you go just now?"

"Nowhere,” Niall sighs, running his hands up and down Harry’s arms. “I'm here, with you."

"Are you okay?" Harry asks softly, nipping gently at Niall’s lips.

"Are you?"

Harry rolls his eyes, albeit fondly, as he crawls off of Niall's body in favour of curling up beside him. "I'm fine, you know that."

Niall rolls onto his side to face his boyfriend – his soulmate. He brushes a hand through Harry's hair, traces a thumb over Harry's cheek. "You know I've never meant it, right? That I didn't even mean it when I said it-"

"I know," Harry says softly.

Harry curls and arm around Niall’s waist and pulls him close. "And you know I'd take it back in a heartbeat, if I could. Right?"

"I know, baby. I know that."

Niall nods, more to himself than anything. "Sometimes I'm afraid that you'll forget," he admits.

"Never."

"Or that I'll say it again during a fight – and I won't meant it, because I could never hate you, but I'm afraid that it'll just slip out and-"

"Niall," Harry hums, pressing their foreheads together. "Kiss me."

So Niall kisses him. And kisses him. And sucks on his bottom lip, and licks into his mouth. And kisses him some more. "I love you," he breathes – pants it into Harry's lips. "I love you so much, Harry."

"I know," Harry whispers back. "And I love you."

X

He finds himself alone in the kitchen the following morning when Anne, however inadvertently, joins him. Harry and Gemma have gone for a run, Dustin is still asleep, and Robin has gone to Tescos to get more breakfast ingredients, so it's literally just the two of them. Alone. Awkward.

"I hope you don't mind, but I made myself a coffee,” Niall says, gesturing the mug in his hand. “And I started the kettle for you; Harry told me you like your tea."

Anne nods. "That's fine. And thank you."

"I, um...I want to thank you for letting me into your home," Niall says softly. He smiles appreciatively. "I know it mustn't be easy for you, given how you feel about me. You could have turned me away, but you didn't- And, I know you only did it for Harry but, just...thank you for doing that for him. It means a lot to him – and to me. He means a lot to me.

"You might not believe that to be true, which is totally understandable, but he does, and-"

"I do believe it to be true, Niall," Anne says. She takes a tea cup out of the cupboard for herself. "It doesn’t take a genius to look at you and know that you love him. It just...doesn't change the way I've felt for the last 21 years."

Niall nods.

She turns to him once she’s prepared her tea, holds the cup between her hands and leans back against the counter. "I've loved him since before he was born. I've cherished him, and protected him from the second I knew that he existed. It's what a mother does for her child. At least...it's what a mother is supposed to be able to do. It's a difficult thing to do, and it's nearly impossible to protect your children from everything, so as a parent you just...do your best and hope that it's at least good enough. But I never felt like I was good enough with Harry. Because I couldn't protect him from the single most painful thing in his entire life. I couldn't protect him from _you_."

Niall blinks, swallows hard around the lump that’s just formed in his throat. His mouth feels like sandpaper again, and something in his chest hurts.

"I didn't think it was real, at first,” she admits. “I thought it was a hoax. I thought I was seeing things. Except that the nurses and doctors sort of looked just as shocked and appalled as I felt. And they looked sympathetic, liked they pitied me...but more so, like they _pitied him_. And I was heartbroken for him.

"I tried everything I could. I asked doctors for cures, looked into whether there was some kind of pill, or something, that would make it fade over time, asked actual tattoo artists if there was any way they could cover it up or remove it – only, there aren't any cures because it isn't an illness, and there isn't any such thing as pills to make it fade, and it's-"

"Impossible to get rid of," Niall concludes in a whisper. "I know."

"You have no idea how... _devastating_ it was to know that he would be stuck with it – with you - forever. All he had to do was look down."

Niall’s stomach churns. His hands start shaking so he has to set his mug on the counter. And then he holds onto the counter, just in case.

"I had to explain it to him when he four,” she continues. And, much like with his conversation with Gemma, it sounds a lot like she’s remembering. “I had to tell him what it meant, even though I couldn't really explain it to myself. But he was only four, so he didn't _really_ get it. And then he did. And he was eight years old.

"He was eight years old, and he came barreling off the bus in tears but he wouldn't let me touch him until the bus rolled out of view and then it was only to bury his face in my jumper and beg me to take him home.

"The kids at school had started bullying him. Calling him names, saying he was unlovable, telling him that nobody would ever be able to love him if not even his soulmate could love him... The only advice that I could give him was to ignore them, and to tell him that it wasn't true, even if the words on his wrist said otherwise – but kids are mean sometimes, and they were relentless with him for years. Which is why he didn't have very many friends in school, apart from Liam.

"He started going through these phases in secondary school. He wouldn't eat, couldn't sleep, refused to leave the house... Some days he could barely even get out of bed, so I'd call in sick to work and I'd drag him into the living room, and we'd watch movies all day long. His favourite was _Love Actually_ , even if it did make him cry every single time.

"He was broken for a long time, Niall. He would often pretend that he wasn't, just for my sake, but I know he was. I know more than he thinks I know – like, the incident with the steel wool, which I’m not supposed to know, and that he isn't as clumsy as he made himself out to be as an explanation for why his tattoo kept moving, and that a lot of the times he told me he was staying at Liam's for the night he wasn't with Liam at all... I know how broken he was – but I also know love when I see it, and I know that he loves you. And I know that you do love him.

"So please, _please_ , Niall, prove to me that I can trust you. Please don't hurt him."

"Never," Niall breathes, shaking his head. "I would never hurt him."

"Prove it to me."

"I will,” he promises. “Every day, I will."

As if on cue – which, if Niall didn't know any better, he'd think it was a set up – the back door slides open and Harry and Gemma walk through it at the same time that the front door opens on the other side of the house. 

Harry stands, like he's frozen in time with one hand on the door handle, staring between his mother and his soulmate. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, love," Anne says. "Niall made coffee and tea. So have a cuppa while Robin and I get started on breakfast, yeah?" She disappears into the front hall, then, to retrieve her husband.

Gemma has also seemed to disappear, probably in search of Dustin.  
Niall hands Harry a mug; black tea. "The way you like it, babe, with zero calories."

"Thank you," Harry says softly, pressing a kiss against Niall's cheek.

X

"You should have told him."

Niall stops at the patio door when he hears Gemma. She and Harry are out back, sitting on the swing. His intention was to join them, but now… He presses himself against the wall beside the door. He shouldn’t eavesdrop, he knows, but well- They are talking about him.

"What?" Harry asks.

"Niall. You should have told him."

"It's not important, Gemma."

"On the contrary, little brother, it's incredibly important," she argues.

Niall peeks, sees Harry shake his head. "Not for us."

"He seems to think it is-"

"Because he knows the three of you don't like him. He knows it's important to the three of you, so of course he thinks it's important."

"You talked about killing yourself, remember?"

"I remember-"

"You literally tried to scrape him away."

"I know, Gem."

"You got Liam to help you with the Tattoo, you slept with-"

"I don't need a reminder, Gemma,” Harry snaps. (Niall never thought he’d see the day Harry snapped at his sister.) “I'm well aware of what happened."

"Then why don't you think it's important?"

Niall holds his breath. Here it is: a moment of truth.

"Because he loves me. Because I _know_ that he loves me, so it doesn't matter – not anymore."

"That doesn't change what happened, Harry."

"No, but- It changes enough for me. It just, it doesn't matter. I look at him, and he smiles, and...it doesn't matter. I look at him in the morning, before he's brushed his teeth or his hair, and it doesn't matter. I look at him when he's watching football or golf, and it doesn't matter. I listen to him sing in the shower, and it doesn't matter. He kisses me, and he holds me, and he sings to me, and he makes me dinner, and he stays in to watch movies with me instead of going out with his friends, and he tells me he loves me every single day, and- It just doesn't matter, Gem. Not anymore."

Niall swears his heart skips a beat.

"Don't you think he deserves to know, though?"

"I mean, he wouldn't have had to know if the three of you could have just put on a poker face."

Gemma glares at him. "Harry. He's your _soulmate_. He should know, whether it matters to _you_ or not, because it matters to him."

Harry sighs. "Well, it seems to me like you and mum already have that covered."

"That's not the same thing and you know it."

Niall decides, then, that he should probably step in and save Harry from going around in circles with his sister, so he takes a deep breath and- "Oh, hey," he says, sliding the screen door open as he steps out onto the porch.

"Hey, babe," Harry says, smiling softly. 

"Ready for that walk you promised me?"

Harry cocks an eyebrow as he stands up. "Are you sure you are up for it?"

"'Course I am,” Niall scoffs. “Wanna see that tree you told me about, where you had your first kiss. See if maybe I can't override it."

Harry hums, grins mischievously. "I bet you you could."

"Disgusting," Gemma mutters, as she pushes herself to feet and then moves towards the door. “See you later.” 

And, though it might just be Niall's imagination – and a little bit of wishful thinking, he's pretty sure that there's little to no malice in her voice; just a sibling teasing. 

X

This time Harry is already in bed and under the covers, and on his phone, by the time Niall finishes brushing his teeth and washing up. He fishes his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and places it on the bedside table, does the same with his watch, and then strips down to his boxers. Harry whistles at him, makes a show of waggling his eyebrows suggestively, which makes Niall roll his eyes, however fondly.

"So, um, I kind of- I overheard you and Gemma talking today," Niall says as he crawls into bed.

Harry raises a skeptical eyebrow, reaches around Niall to put his phone on the bedside table too. "You _overheard_?"

"I was coming to find you but then I heard the two of you talking and it sounded serious so I didn't want to interrupt."

Harry hums.

Niall pulls the blanket up around his waist, and leans his back against the headboard. "What did she mean when she said that you got Liam to help you with the Tattoo?" It’s been bothering him since this morning; first, with Anne mentioning how ‘clumsy’ Harry would claim he was as an explanation for why his Tattoo _kept moving_ , and then with Gemma saying that _Liam helped him_ … Why did Harry’s Tattoo keep moving? And what did Liam have to do with it? What is Niall missing?

Harry shrugs. "It's not important, babe-"

"It is important,” Niall protests. “It's important to me."

Harry blinks, stares at him silently.  
"It's why it's not on your forearm, where the bible is, isn't it?"

"It doesn't matter, Niall,” the brunette sighs. “It's-"

"Please, Harry."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just- I can't, Niall."

"Why?"

"Because it doesn't matter!” Harry shouts incredulously. “Because I'm not ready! Because if I tell you everything, then you'll _know_ everything, and if you know everything then-" he cuts himself off. 

"Then what?" Niall presses.

"Then you actually might hate me."

Niall sighs, crawls over Harry’s thighs. "That will never happen, babe."

"Oh, it could – believe me."

"It won't," Niall promises.

"And if you do? Then what?"

"I won't."

Harry doesn’t look convinced.

"What are you so afraid of?"

He looks at everything in the room except Niall. 

"Harry-"

"You," Harry mutters. "But I'm mostly afraid of _losing_ you."

Niall takes Harry’s face in his hands, strokes his thumbs over his cheeks. "You won't lose me. Nothing you could ever say to me would ever make me hate you. You're not going to lose me.

"I thought you trusted me," he whispers, disappointed. "I thought we trusted each other-"

"Then maybe I don't trust you."

Niall blinks, feels like he's been slapped straight across the face. His stomach churns, and something aches in his chest. "Nice," he mutters, moving away from Harry. He crawls to the edge of the bed, and then climbs to his feet.

Harry scrambles after him. "I'm- Niall, I'm sorry, I didn't- I didn't mean that, you know I didn't-"

"Do I?" Niall snaps, whirling around to face him. "Because from where I'm standing, you don't trust me at all."

"I do-"

"You don't," Niall mutters, grabbing a t-shirt off the top of his suitcase. "And if you did, you wouldn't use it against me."

Harry reaches for him, frowns when Niall moves away from and towards the door.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna sleep on the couch."

"What- Niall-"

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Niall, babe-

And then Niall’s gone. It’s like one minute he’s looking at the shock and confusion written all over Harry’s face, and then next he’s lying on his back on the living room couch, staring at the ceiling and wondering how the hell this has happened.  
X

The first person Niall sees in the morning is Dustin. Dustin, who doesn't realize that Niall is asleep on the couch until it's too late, and the bloke is already trying to sit on his legs.

"Shit- Fuck- Sorry, mate," Dustin curses, stutters, and then apologizes.

Niall groans as he moves his legs out of the way, though he stays lying down. He leaves enough room for Dustin to sit down next to him. "What time is it?"

"Half six."

"Jesus."

"I have to go in to work for a few hours. What are you doing on the couch?"

Niall yawns, rubs at his eyes. "Harry and I had a fight last night."

"You're not letting Gem and Anne get to you, are you? Because they'll get over it, just give it time."

"It's not so much Gemma or Anne, it's...” Niall whispers. “It's that Harry refuses to tell me things that I consider important."

Dustin raises an eyebrow. "Things about his past, I'm assuming?"

Niall nods.

"Maybe he just needs time too."

"He's had over a year," Niall points out. "And- I don't think he ever had intentions of telling me."

"Then perhaps that's why he needs time."

Niall hums. "Maybe."

"Look, he just... He probably just thinks he's protecting you, y'know? Maybe he thinks he's being noble. He's not necessarily trying to _keep it from you_ , he just doesn't want to hurt you."

"I know," Niall sighs. And, well, deep down he does know that. He knows that that is probably a factor. But still.

"Gemma and I have this thing, where we don't go to bed angry. We could have a fight _in bed_ , and we make sure to talk it out – even if it takes hours – until we're not angry anymore, because that's hard on a relationship. Trust me."

"You think I shouldn't have slept on the couch."

"Not necessarily," Dustin shrugs. "I just don't think you – either of you – should have gone to bed angry- _Or_ hurt. That's all I'm saying."

Ten minutes later, after Dustin has left the house and Niall has locked up the front door behind him, he finds himself crawling back up the stairs. It's dark, and it's quiet, so he tiptoes carefully down the hallway towards Harry's room. The door creaks softly when he opens it, groans a bit as he closes it – and Harry stirs because of it, but he doesn't wake. Niall crawls into the bed carefully; tucks himself under the covers, molds himself against Harry's back and curls an arm over Harry's waist. 

Harry's whole body seems to relax, then, melting into Niall's embrace. (And Niall might never get used to that – to the idea of _fitting_ so perfectly with another human being; the physical representation of the word _soulmate_.) It's then that Harry stirs, craning his neck so he can look at Niall, however blearily. "Hi," he murmurs.

"Hi," Niall whispers back.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too," Niall whispers. "I love you."

"I love you too."

X

Niall's got one hand molded with Harry's, and the other pushing through his hair as they come down the stairs a few hours later. Everyone is already in the kitchen, apart from Dustin – whom Niall remembers had gone into work earlier, and there are two other people – one, Niall recognizes from pictures as Liam, Harry's childhood best friend, sat in a couple of stools at the island.

"There he is," Liam says, grinning ear to ear. He's got a nice, friendly smile. "Hazard."

"Lima!" Harry exclaims. He drops Niall's hand, makes a beeline for the broad-shouldered, big-armed puppy dog-looking bloke. He hugs Liam close, squeezes him tight, and buries his face in the curve of his neck. And then he hugs the other bloke too – Louis, is what Niall thinks he hears.

Anne, Gemma, and Robin are all smiles. 

"What are you guys doing here?” Harry asks, looking expectantly between the two of them. “I thought you were working all weekend."

"They popped in about an hour ago. Couldn't very well turn them away, could we?" Robin laughs. 

"I was supposed to," Liam explains. "But Andy took my shift for me, so you're stuck with us all day."

"You, I can handle," Harry says. "Not so sure about that one."

"Oi!" Louis shouts. "That's a bit offensive and I'm an incredibly pleasant person to be around, you wanker."

Harry laughs.

Niall, meanwhile, hovers in the doorway. Part of him feels like he should leave them all alone, find himself something to do, let Harry catch up with his friends-

But then suddenly there's an arm curled around his waist, and- "This is Niall. He's my _soulmate_ , Li."

Several things happen, then, over the course of 39 seconds:

The kettle on the stove goes off. Robin's toast pops out of the toaster. Liam gets up from his seat. Louis reaches for him. Gemma answers her phone. And then somebody's fist collided with Niall's face. 

.

"Are you sure we shouldn't take you to the hospital?"

Niall rolls his eyes, bats Harry’s hands away from his fist. "I don't need to go to the hospital, Harry. I'm fine."

"But what if it's broken?"

"It's not broken."

"He's right, Harold,” Louis says, from where he’s holding a bag of frozen peas to Liam’s knuckles. “It's not broken-"

"Your mum's a midwife, Louis- What the hell would you know about a broken nose?"

Louis scoffs. "I used to hang around the emergency room waiting for me mum to get off work. I know what the fuck a broken nose looks like. And besides, Liam’s a firefighter; he’d know if it were broken too."

"It does look a bit swollen, though," Anne says, handing Niall a bag of ice. "Put that on it for a bit, it'll help the swelling go down."

Niall does as he’s told and holds the ice against the swollen part of his cheek and nose.

"Are you okay – apart from, you know, your face?" Harry asks softly, running a hand through Niall's hair. 

Niall shrugs. "Reckon I'm getting used to these...cold greetings."

Harry sighs. "I'm sorry. I should have-"

"I'm gonna go out back for a bit," Niall says, cutting him off. Yes, Harry should have told everyone about Niall well before now, and no, he doesn't want to talk about it. "Get some fresh air."

"Do you want some company?"

Niall shakes his head. "Just going for a walk, I won't be long. And you should stay anyway...catch up with your friends."

"Niall-"

"Just- Stay, Haz. I'm fine.

On his way out the door he hears Harry say, "You didn't have to hit him, Li."

X

When Niall returns, it's to find Harry, Liam, and Louis piled on the couch in the living room. Liam acknowledges him with a stiff nod before nudging Harry's shoulder – and then Harry turns around, and pushes himself to his feet, and joins Niall in the kitchen as the blond pours himself a glass of water. It’s warm out today; he probably should have brought a water bottle.

"Hey," Harry murmurs. "Are you feeling better?"

"Maybe?" Niall says, albeit unconvincingly. "Actually, no- Not really." His nose feels like it’s two sizes too big, his cheek hurts when he speaks, and he just…doesn’t feel _good_.

Harry's eyes narrow in confusion and concern. 

"It's a bit hard to feel _better_ when everyone has these dark secrets about you, because of me, and hate me for it."

"Nobody hates you for anything-"

"Gemma does," Niall says. "Gemma _said_ she does. And your best friend literally just punched me in the face, so-"

"He's sorry," Harry murmurs.

"Usually the person who's sorry should be the person saying that he's sorry."

Harry sighs, curling his arms around Niall's neck and pulling him close until they're _almost_ nose-to-nose. " _I'm_ sorry too. It's my fault, and-"

"Don't, Haz. It's fine. My nose isn't broken, the swelling has gone down- It's fine."

Harry doesn’t look very convinced, or happy, but he changes the subject anyway, which Niall is only slightly thankful for. "Mum made eggy bread while you were gone and she put some in the fridge for you in case you were hungry when you got back. Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"You should eat something. Actually, you should definitely eat the eggy bread. It's delicious, the way mum makes it."

"Where'd everyone else go?" Niall asks after he's found the plate in the fridge. 

"Gemma went to meet up with a friend for coffee, and mum and Robin went to get more food so that Liam and Louis can stay for dinner."

Niall hums. Is it selfish of him not to want Harry’s friends to stay?

"I don't approve of him hitting you," Harry says softly. "You know that, right?"

"I know," Niall murmurs. He sighs, then, as he hooks a finger around one of Harry's belt loops and pulls him closer. "I know that, babe."

"Good,” Harry murmurs. He swoops in to kiss Niall, forgetting momentarily about the fact that Niall’s whole face feels (and sort of looks) like one giant bruise.

X

Niall slips out from between Harry and the arm of the sofa when it's Harry's turn to put down a word on the Scrabble board sitting in the middle of the coffee table. He grabs his bottle of Peroni, and Harry's empty glass – and even grabs Robin's empty with a silent promise to bring another back for him as well. Robin has come around, for the most part, however silently.

It's when he's pulling the cork out of Harry's bottle of red wine that Liam walks into the kitchen, looking sheepish. "Hey."

Niall blinks. "Hey."

"So, I want to apologize for earlier. I shouldn't have hit you."

"Thanks," Niall murmurs. 

"I'm just...protective, I guess,” Liam explains. “I spent so long trying to protect him from people that would only hurt him, from _you_ mostly though, and when he said you were his _soulmate_ I just… Immediately saw red. It's no excuse, but it's the only explanation I have."

"Believe it or not, that was not my first physical altercation this weekend. Gemma beat you to it by slapping me across the face."

Liam snorts. "Of course she did."

He gets an idea, then.

"Can I ask you a favour, Liam?"

"Sure."

"Tell me about him," Niall whispers. "I mean- His past, as far as his Tattoo goes, is clearly darker than he's ever let on to me. Gemma hates me, Anne can barely stand to look at me, and Robin has barely spoken a word since we got here. They’ve come around, but only a tiny bit, and Anne and Gemma told me a few things, but- I mean- Clearly I'm missing something where _you're_ concerned, and Harry just...doesn't want to talk about it because he doesn't think it's important."

Liam raises an eyebrow. "But _you_ think it's important?"

"Yes. To _me_ , anyway. Just...” he trails off, fiddling nervously with his fingers. “I want to know what he's been through, but he won't tell me. So, please-"

"Yeah," Liam says softly. "I'll tell you."

"How bad is it?"

Liam shrugs. "That depends on how...squeamish you are, I suppose. But are you sure it's a good idea to do this _here_? What if Harry overhears, or-"

Niall scoffs with a gentle roll of his eyes. "He's playing Scrabble. He'll be occupied until the game is over. Probably won't even realize that I have his drink."

Liam laughs. "He gets quite into the Scrabble, doesn't he?"

" _Quite_ is an understatement,” Niall snickers.

Liam laughs again and, well, at least there’s that. Perhaps the puppy dog won’t be so hard to win over after all.

"So... What do you want to know, Niall?"

"As much as you can tell me, I guess,” Niall shrugs. “How did you guys meet? He talks about you a lot, but he's never told me how you met."

"We were nine years old. Or, well, I was nine and he was eight; first month of school that year and I was the new kid," Liam says. "I was a loner, didn't really fit in, nobody really wanted to be my friend. It's like...everybody already had their friend groups selected for the year and they weren't taking in any more recruits. And Harry was the other loner kid. Always by himself, head down, books hugged to his chest... I remember thinking that he looked lonely, but also like he wanted _somebody_ , you know?

"He used to eat his lunches in the library even though we weren't allowed food in there; I think the librarians just knew that he didn't want to be anywhere else. So one day I found him, and I sat down with him even though he looked at me like I had two heads. And it just became a thing after that, me and him."

"It was because of his tattoo, wasn't it?” Niall asks quietly. “That's why he was a loner?" He knows it is, he just…needs confirmation.

"Kids aren't always very nice – and the kids at school weren't very nice to him. They made fun of him for it, called him a freak and stuff. For the longest time, he genuinely didn't understand why I wanted to be his friend."

"I overheard Gemma mention something about him sleeping with people, and also about you helping him move the tattoo... Can you tell me about that?"

Liam shrugs. "He was desperate, Niall. He was desperate for somebody to love him – someone that wasn't his mum or his sister or me... It nearly destroyed him."

"H-How?” Niall asks; he’s finding it harder and harder to breathe.

"He went through lover after lover just...trying to find someone who would be better for him than you. He just wanted someone to love him and none of them stayed. None of them wanted to get involved because it meant giving up their own soulmate. 

"I remember him telling me something that one of the girls he was with said to him. She said, _'Why would I give up the bloke who's been made for me, for the poor boy whose own soulmate doesn't love him?'_

"He got wasted that night. Came over to my house in the middle of the night on a school night with a bottle of tequila – and smelled like one too. Nearly woke my parents up before I managed to sneak him downstairs into the basement when he started sobbing.

"That was the first night he asked me to help him with the tattoo."

"How old were you?"

"Seventeen."

"Jesus," Niall breathes. "And...what exactly did he want you to help him with?" He asks, although he's pretty sure he already knows the answer to this question too.

"To move it."

Niall blinks, breath caught in his throat.

"I refused at first. I thought he was just...talking shit, or something. Didn't think he was serious, so I refused and I told him I didn't think it was funny and then I thought he forgot about it. The next day, however, after school, he brought me to his house and he gave me a towel and then pulled out a knife."

This time all of the air escapes Niall’s lungs  
.  
"He said that he was going to cut it, just enough to make it move, and that I would have to hold the towel to his arm to stop the bleeding. I thought he was crazy, that there was no way he'd do that intentionally, and then- He did. And I froze. He started bleeding, and the blood was dripping down his arms and onto the floor and I couldn't – I couldn't even move until he yelled at me.

"And it moved, but it only moved to the outside of his forearm. He was devastated and heartbroken all over again, said he must be cursed or something."

"It's on his shoulder blade now," Niall whispers. "How many more times did- How many more times?"

"Six."

And Niall feels sick. Feels like he could vomit, or pass out, or both.

"He just...couldn't stand having to see it every day, whether it was because he was looking down or because he could see it in the mirror. He hated it, Niall. _I_ hated it because he kept hurting himself just to make it disappear.

"The last time he did it, the tattoo was on his hip. His hands were shaking too badly, though, so I took the knife from him and I did it. I didn't want to, I hated the thought of it, but- I hated seeing him the way he was and I thought that maybe if he didn't have to see it all the time then he _would_ feel better for it. He started crying, and he kept wincing because it hurt, and I wanted to stop but then he just...started sobbing and begging me to keep going.

"That's when it moved to his shoulder blade."

And, yeah, Niall doesn't think he'd ever felt so sick before. His stomach is in knots, with the image of a 17 year-old Harry cutting apart his skin to get rid of the ink that has marred it. To get rid of _Niall_. The thought of Harry putting himself through so much pain just to…not feel so much pain is sickening. Heartbreaking. Devastating.

"Is that why he's got all those other tattoos?"

Liam nods.

"To hide the scars?"

"Yeah."

And suddenly Niall is rushing past Liam, despite the brunette's protests, until he finds himself in the living room. His eyes are wide and frantic as he stands in front of Harry, everyone – including Harry – staring at him in confusion. In concern. "Take your shirt off,” he whispers.

Harry blinks up at him, eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"Take your shirt off."

Harry's brow furrows in confusion. "Why?"

Niall reaches for the fabric of Harry's jumper, pulls until Harry stands up in front of him. "Please, Harry... Please take your shirt off."

Harry does as he's asked, watches with bated breath and in confusion as Niall proceeds to touch all of Harry's tattoos.

The birds, the butterfly, the leaves, the bible, the ship, the mermaid... And, finally, the anchor. It's painful, and it's intimate, and it's intimately painful and painfully intimate. It's the most vulnerable Harry has ever felt. In all the times he's ever had sex, in all the times he's ever made love to Niall, in all the things they've ever talked about and said to each other... This is it. This is Harry at his most vulnerable.

It's also the most vulnerable Niall has ever felt. He's not crying, but there are unshed tears in his eyes, and there's a lump in his throat and his stomach is in knots and he just feels... Odd. He's seen Harry a hundred thousand times over – seen him happy, and sad; seen him laugh and cry; seen him bundled up in two pairs of sweatpants and three jumpers in the middle of winter because their heat was broken, and seen him completely naked, covered in a thin layer of sweat with his hair all over the place and a blush covering his whole body – but he's never seen Harry like _this_. His tattoos aren’t just tattoos. They aren’t just pictures inked into his skin. They aren’t even really memories. They’re just…scars.

"You told him?" Harry asks suddenly – and it takes a moment for Niall to remember that they aren't alone, and that Liam had followed him into the living room. "That was supposed to be _our_ secret, Liam."

"He already knew," Liam says softly. "I just...confirmed it."

"I begged him, Harry,” Niall whispers. “It's not his fault."

"It doesn't matter,” Harry snaps. He sounds angry. “It wasn't his story to tell."

"Wasn't my story to tell?" Liam asks incredulously. "I was with you every step of the way, so to hell with the idea that it isn't my story to tell."

Niall is only vaguely aware of the fact that Louis jumps to Liam's defence, standing beside his soulmate with a hand on his hip. He's only vaguely aware of the fact that Anne is a bit beside herself, although she doesn't quite look surprised. She’s known all along, after all. But still.

"You told me you'd keep it between the two of us," Harry hisses, glaring at Liam.

"How exactly was I supposed to that when your soulmate was begging me to tell him about you because you wouldn't? You should have been the one to tell him – and you should have told him a long time ago."

Niall starts to walk away, then. He makes a beeline for the front door; doesn't know where he's going to go, or how he's going to get there, but-

"Niall, baby," Harry says softly, curling a hand around one of Niall's wrists to stop him. "Stop- Please, just- Let's just talk about this-"

"Oh, now you want to talk?" Niall hisses, twisting his wrist out of Harry's grasp. "Now, after somebody else has already told me, you've decided you want to talk about things?" 

Harry goes to reach for him again, with a murmur of Niall's name, but Niall pushes him back-

"Don't touch me," he mutters. He's...devastated. He's hurt. He's angry. 

He's angry at Harry – for not telling him, for letting everyone else tell him. But, mostly, he's just angry at himself – for saying something he shouldn't have, for saying something he didn't even mean and never could, for being the sole reason for Harry's pain for years. He _hates_ himself.

"This is what I was afraid of the most," Harry whispers. "I've never been afraid of my past, or of reliving it, and I was only ever mildly afraid that it would make you hate me... Mostly, I was afraid that you would hate yourself. Please don't hate yourself, Niall. It's not-"

"Don't say it isn't my fault – because it is _entirely_ my fault. None of this, none of that would have happened if it weren't for me. And...you should hate me too."

"No-"

"You should hate me just like everybody else does."

"I could _never_ hate you," Harry murmurs. He takes a step closer, reaches for Niall again only to have the blond step back towards the door. His heart plummets.

"You deserve so much better than me, Haz. Soulmate or not, you deserve better. I'm not good for you-"

Harry shakes his head, tears shining in his eyes. "That's- That's not true, Niall."

"It is,” Niall whispers numbly. “You deserve someone who isn't so heartless that they don't even think before they speak – someone who wouldn't ever tell someone they've just met that they fucking _hate them_. More than anything, though, you deserve someone better than me."

Harry opens his mouth to respond, but Niall cuts him off-

"You deserve to be loved by someone who has never, and will never, hurt you. And I don't deserve to be loved by someone as pure and beautiful and loving as you are."

Harry blinks. "A-Are you breaking up with me?"

"I... I guess so," Niall murmurs.

"No, you- You can't do that," Harry protests. "We're _soulmates_ , you can't just-"

"Being soulmates doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean that two people _should_ be together, it just means that the universe thinks we're _meant_ to be together. And, obviously, the universe messed this one up."

"Don't say that, it's not true."

Niall stares at him. "How can you even _want_ to be with me after everything I've put you through? How could you possibly think that I'm – good enough for you?" He trips up half way through the last part, feels his stomach churn and his legs weaken. He’s really doing this…

"Because- It doesn't matter," Harry says firmly.

"It matters, Harry."

"Listen," the brunette sighs, "I know it matters right now. I know this is new for you, and I know you're upset about it, but – just – at the end of the day, it doesn't matter anymore. It's in the past and- I'm fine, Niall.

"I'm better than fine. I'm so, _so good_ , babe. We're good."

Niall closes his eyes, rubs his hands over his face. "I just... I need some air – some time to..."

"To what?"

"I don't... I dunno, to think? To process? To- Just to myself?"

"Niall, if I've learned anything it's that being alone isn't-"

"Your family hates me, Harry,” the blond says. His eyes are burning, his heart aches, he feels weak and hopeless. “Your friends are polite enough at the moment, but they don't like me very much either. And right now...I can't even stand to _be_ me, so I just- I'm sorry," he whispers – and then he's gone.

And Harry bursts into tears, hands covering his mouth in a vain attempt to hold in the sobs crawling up his throat.

X

He makes it all of two blocks before he has to pull over. He's too distracted by the ache in his chest and the tears stinging his eyes to drive. 

He feels... He doesn't know how he feels, honestly.

Sad. Angry. Devastated. Hurt. Protective. Disappointed. 

He feels like a monster. He feels responsible. He feels awful, and shameful, and pitiful, and...selfish. 

And yet it's nothing compared to how Harry had felt for years; sad, angry, devastated, hurt, _unloved, unwanted_.

Part of him wishes he had never found out. The other part of him wishes he had always known. 

X

"You Irish are so predictable."

Niall turns his head around to scout out the source of the voice, although he knows who it is anyway. It's Robin. And he's just a few feet away from where Niall is sitting, arse perched on a bar stool with his arms folded across the top of a counter and a half full pint placed in front of him.

"Do you mind if I join you?” Robin asks, gesturing towards the empty stool beside Niall. “Could use a pint meself."

"Y-Yeah," Niall stutters. "Sure." He's half expecting Robin to start yelling, if he’s honest.

Except Robin doesn't start yelling. Instead, he sits in the stool next to Niall's, flags down the bartender and orders a pint for himself. 

"How is he?" Niall asks softly, running his fingers through the condensation on his glass.

"He's a mess," Robin replies. "He's upset with himself, and angry at the rest of us. And he's scared."

"Scared of what?"

"That you're going to leave him."

Niall shakes his head. "I wouldn't," he whispers. "I _couldn't_."

"You tried to break up with him."

"I... I didn't mean that, I was just- Upset." And, hm- Perhaps he should stop saying things to Harry that he doesn’t mean.

"Then maybe you should come back to the house and tell him that yourself. The longer you're away, the more he convinces himself that you aren't coming back – no matter what anybody else tries to tell him."

Niall snorts. "And here I thought everybody would have been throwing a party, telling him to just forget about me. Yourself included."

"I have to admit, I think we all thought about it," Robin says. "But we're not blind. Anybody who spends any amount of time with the two of you can tell how gone you are for each other. You love each other, and you cherish each other, and you care about each other – and that's something worth fighting for. Even the girls can see that."

"He deserves better than me."

"Shouldn't he be the judge of that?"

Niall shrugs. "He loves me too much to admit it."

"Or he loves you enough to know that it isn't true."

Niall’s pretty sure that isn’t true, but who is he to argue?

"Harry was 13 years old when I met him," Robin starts. "Nearly a whole year older than he was when he'd talked to Gemma about killing himself, and a couple of years before he tore his wrist apart. Several years before he _tried_ to connect with someone that _could_ have been better for him than you. I watched him grow up, and figure out who is and what he wanted out of life – and not only was everyone else he'd been with not better for him, they weren't even worthy of him.

"And in those few years, one thing kept standing out to me. He wanted someone – anyone – to love him, but more than anything he just wanted _you_ to love him, Niall. He longed for it. That's it.

"And do you know what you've done for him?"

Niall shakes his head.

"You've given him that one thing that he's always wanted. You've loved him."

Niall rubs at his wet eyes. And then he rests the side of his against a fist he props up on the counter.

"You've given him a home. You've made him feel safe. There was a time when I thought that you would never deserve him, or to be loved by him, but over the last few days, I reckon you've proven me wrong. Not only do you deserve his love, but you're the only one who has ever been worthy of it."

Niall can't help the way his lips twitch into a watery smile. “Yeah?”

Robin nods. "How about we finish off these pints and head back, yeah?"

"Yeah- Yes."

X

His hands are a bit shaky, and his heart is hammering in his chest as he walks through the house, down the hall towards the kitchen, behind Robin. He's nervous – _beyond_ nervous, and he's a bit afraid. 

Robin enters the kitchen first, and Niall has to linger out in the hallway to collect himself. 

"Did you find him?" Harry asks softly. His voice sounds small, sounds worried, sounds...anxious.

Niall takes a deep breath before walking into the kitchen and out from behind Robin. Anne, Gemma, and Dustin are all standing around the island with Harry.

Harry, who comes around the island at what feels like lightning speed until he stops, suddenly, at the furthest corner a few feet away from Niall. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. It's like he wants to move, wants to say something – anything, but he doesn't know how.

So Niall moves instead, like it's a physical need to be close to Harry. He crosses the space between them, closes the gap the second he reaches him, throws his arms around Harry's neck and clings to him. Harry's arms wrap around his back as the brunette sags against him, melts into him, buries his face in the curve of Niall's neck and breathes him in. Niall never wants to let go, never wants to be anywhere else than inside the comfort and safety of Harry's arms. "I love you," he whispers, lips brushing against the skin of Harry's neck.

A sob slips out between Harry's lips as he squeezes his arms, holds Niall tighter. And then his shoulders are shaking, and tears are soaking through the fabric of Niall's t-shirt. 

"Shhh," Niall whispers, brushing a hand through Harry's hair as he pulls away just enough to see his face. Harry's eyes are a bit red and swollen – probably not unlike Niall's at the moment. He cradles Harry's face between his hands, strokes his thumbs over Harry's wet cheeks. “It’s okay.”

"I thought you were leaving me," Harry murmurs. 

"Never," Niall whispers back, pressing their foreheads together. "I'm right here, pet. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Harry brings his hands around, curls his fingers in the front of Niall's shirt. "I love you," he says softly. "So much. And I'm so sorry for not telling you myself-"

"It's okay."

"It's not okay," Harry protests gently, with a shake of his head. "You told me everything about you and- I barely told you anything at all."

"Harry-"

"I had hoped that you'd never have to find out. I'd hoped that I'd be able to keep it a secret and that’s not how relationships work-"

"Haz-"

"I was just- I was scared that you'd think I was some nutcase, or that you'd end up hating me, or worse – that you'd hate yourself, and-"

" _Petal_ ," Niall says, emphasizing the pet name. "I could never hate you. Not for your past, not for what you've done or been through – and not even for not telling me. I wish you would have, for several reasons, but I could never hate you for it.

"I've _never_ hated you, Haz. Not even when I thought I _wanted_ to."

Harry nods. "I know. I know that."

"Quite the opposite, actually," Niall murmurs with a smile. 

Harry smiles back. "I know that too."

Niall closes the gap between them once more until they're kissing; until their lips are touching in the most intimate of ways, until their breaths are mingling and twisting together, until the only thing Niall can feel and smell and hear and see is HarryHarryHarry. It's sweet and it's soft and it's loving and it's passionate. 

It's when they've broken apart, however grudgingly, that Niall remembers they aren't alone - and as though it's on cue, that's when Dustin clears his throat from somewhere behind Harry-

"Well, it's been a long night and it's well past my bedtime, so I'm just...gonna go to bed," he says. 

"Me too," Gemma replies, dragging Dustin out of sight before anybody else can get a word in, leaving Harry and Niall alone with...Anne and Robin.

"Well, I must say, I've not stayed up until 2 o'clock in the morning in ages," Robin comments. "So it's well past my – our – bedtime as well. Care to join me, my love?"

Anne nods, whilst slipping her hand into Robins. "It's late, and you've both had a rough night, so don't stay up too much longer."

"Yes, mum," Harry murmurs, rolling his eyes playfully. He turns to look at Niall a moment later, after they've left, and just...stares. 

Niall blinks. "What?"

"You're beautiful."

The blond rolls his eyes in response, despite the smile growing on his lips. 

"Inside and out."

"Stop," Niall whispers, feels the blush spreading out across his cheeks. "Where did Liam and Louis go?"

"Liam felt terrible," Harry responds. "I forgave him pretty quickly because I know it's not his fault-"

"It's not his fault," Niall says. "I wanted him to tell me."

"I know. He just- He felt really awful, and he thought that he shouldn't be here when you got back. He might swing by tomorrow, before we head out, but- We'll see."

"I'm sorry I went behind your back-"

"Shhh, don't- Don't apologize," Harry murmurs. "Besides, we could both use some sleep, yeah? So let's just sleep on it, and then we can talk some more in the morning."

"Deal."

X

The room is bright when he opens his eyes. He squints until his eyes adjust, and then he rolls over to find Harry.

"Hi," Harry murmurs, whilst Niall rubs the sleep out of his eyes with closed fists.

"Hi," the blond whispers back. Harry’s just...staring at him. Just looking, with soft eyes and an even softer smile. "What?"

"Just- Enjoying the view."

Niall rolls his eyes, despite the fond smile tugging at his lips. "How do you get me _every time_?"

"Because I'm just that _good_ ," Harry says, throwing one leg over Niall's hips until he's straddling Niall's pelvis. He leans down, presses a gentle kiss to Niall's lips. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Is it weird that I've missed you?"

Niall shrugs. "I mean- I've been here the whole time."

"Yeah, but it's not the same. We haven't really had time to ourselves, and when we have we've just gone straight to bed."

"I told you before we left the flat that I wasn't going to have sex with you – of any kind – while staying in the same house as your mother. And I stand by that statement.

"Besides, she already hates me, so the last thing I need is to give her more ammo."

Harry scoffs. "It's not like she doesn't _know_ , Niall."

"It's not like she needs to _hear_ , Harry. She doesn't need to know what you sound like mid-orgasm. Doesn't need to know what I sound like either, I reckon."

"So I guess a make-up blowjob is out of the question, then?"

"Yes."

Harry sighs, albeit playfully. "Fine. I suppose I can wait until we get back to that gas station," he says, flopping back onto the mattress beside Niall. He lies on his side, faces him. 

Niall mirrors his position, reaches a hand out to brush his fingers through Harry's hair.

"You can ask me stuff, you know," Harry says softly. "Ask me anything and I'll answer."

"You don't have to do that. I understand why you didn't want to talk about it, or tell me, and I- I should have respected that. I shouldn't have taken it further with Liam."

Harry shakes his head. "You have every right to know everything. I never should have kept it from you."

"Harry-"

"Ask me, Niall."

Niall licks at his lips, rolls onto his back, but turns his head so he can keep his gaze on Harry’s face. "How many times did you actually think about suicide?"

"Three times,” Harry replies honestly. “Once when I mentioned it to Gemma, once after I tore apart my wrist, and once a few years later. I never would have actually done it though; had too much to lose."

"Like what?"

"Mum, Gemma... You."

Niall shakes his head. "You didn't even know me. And you-"

"I wanted to know you. I wanted to meet you. I wanted to know what could have possibly prompted those words, at the very least. Despite everything, I still...didn't want to lose you."

Niall takes Harry's hand, runs his thumb over the anchor where his first scar is.

"I wanted to get rid of it so badly," Harry whispers. "I knew I was always going to remember it, but I thought that if I could make it go away, then at least I didn't have to see it too. And then it didn't go away, and...the physical pain in my wrist was nothing compared to the realization that it was always going to be a part of me.

"I'm glad it is now, though. I'm glad it never went away, because it's something else entirely now – thanks to you. It used to represent something horrible for me, but it's so much more than that now. It's my future – our future."

"Why'd you cover up the scars with tattoos?" Niall asks, then.

"At first I just... Part of me was ashamed, and part of me just wanted to forget it was there. And then it just – made sense, I guess. It was less about being ashamed and more about giving each scar a purpose."

"If it hadn't moved to your back when it did, would you have kept going?"

Harry nods. "Probably. That's just where my frame of mind was at, at the time."

"And now?"

"I can't say I regret it, but...I would kind of like to be able to see it properly now."

A small smile tugs at Niall’s lips as he rolls back onto his side. "How many people were you with, before we met? More than the 'few' you told me about?"

"No, that part was true."

"Did they ever...mean anything to you?"

Harry shakes his head. "I wanted them to. But more than anything _I_ wanted to mean something to _them_. Turns out nobody meant anything to anybody."

There’s only one more question on Niall’s mind, and it isn’t even that important, but- "Were you ever going to tell me if we hadn't taken this trip?"

Harry hesitates. "I don't know."

Niall nods. Understands. Respects his honesty.

"It truly doesn't matter to me anymore” the brunette murmurs. “It's just not a thing I worry about, or care about. It's...simply just a thing of the past, and it's really not a big deal.

"But I understand why it is for you, because it's new for you. You're allowed to feel however you're feeling, Niall."

Niall sighs. "I just... I just wish that I could take it back. You know that, right? That I would change it, if I could go back and do that? Because I would, in a heartbeat."

"I know," Harry says softly. They’ve probably had this portion of the conversation a thousand times by now. "I know you would."

Niall leans in close, presses his lips gently against Harry’s. "I love you," he whispers into them. "Always."

"Forever," Harry murmurs back.

X

The first person Niall sees as he walks into the kitchen is Harry. The second person he sees is Liam, sitting at the island with a travel mug in front of him. 

"Morning!" Liam says immediately. 

"Uh, hi," Niall says softly, albeit awkwardly.

"Harry, here, tells me I don't have to apologize for yesterday, but I think I do," the firefighter explains, as he gets to his feet. "I shouldn't have punched you, and I should have considered how you might react to what I'd told you before I chose to tell you."

Niall shakes his head. "Like I told Harry, I practically begged you to. It's okay."

"See? I told you," Harry murmurs, clapping Liam on the back before bringing Niall against his side. "It's okay. Everything is fine, Liam."

"Yeah?"

"We're fine."

Liam breathes a sigh of relief. "Good. I'm glad." He looks at Niall. "I hated you yesterday, but you've already grown on me. And, well, after all these years, I trust Harry's judgment. And I trust that you love him, so- No hard feelings?"

Niall shakes his hand. "No hard feelings, mate."

"Great. Now I have to get my arse to work before the boss has my head."

"Be careful, yeah?"

"I always am."

"Not always."

"Mostly always."

"Only because Louis isn't around to encourage you."

Liam rolls his eyes. "Bye, lad. I'll let you know the next time I'm in London."

"Sounds good, mate."

Liam sticks a hand out towards Niall. "It was good to finally meet you, Niall."

Niall shakes his hand. "Likewise, thank you."

Harry curls an arm around Niall's shoulder and rests his chin on the crook of his neck after Liam has left. Niall leans back into him comfortably. 

Gemma's voice can be heard from the front hall, greeting and then saying goodbye to Liam on his way out, before she enters the kitchen. "Ah, finally! You're both up!"

"And you've been out," Harry notices, referring to the tray of Starbucks cups in a tray within her hand.

"I had a craving, thought I pick some up for everyone. And yes- I got you a tea, little brother."

Harry grins. "You're the best."

"And a coffee for you, Niall. Black, three sugars, right?"

Niall blinks, taken aback. "Y-yeah. Thank you, Gemma."

He’s not entirely sure what brought on this new development with Gemma – or even Liam – but he likes it.

"So, mum and Robin went for a walk but I was thinking- I know you guys are leaving tonight, but Niall hasn't really properly seen around so perhaps we could all spend the day in town? Take him to the shops and the park or something."

Niall blinks again, speechless.

Harry grins. "Yeah, I'd love that. Niall would love that."

"Great," Gemma smiles. "I'm going to get Dustin out of bed, the lazy arse. We'll be down soon."

"Sounds good," Harry says.

"That," Niall starts in a whisper, once Gemma has left the room, "is a nice surprise."

"Told you they’d come around."

X

First they go antiquing. Niall – nor Dustin, nor Robin – are very keen on the practice, but Harry, Gemma, and Anne love it so, it's what they do first thing. (Harry buys a God awful lamp, which he insists is going in their living room when they get home. And Niall finds himself plotting ways for it to go missing.)

They stop for lunch shortly after, and Robin tricks everyone by paying for everything well in advance of the arrival of their meals. (Harry gets a garden salad, and Niall gets a cheeseburger with sweet potato fries – but Harry ends up picking off of Niall's plate anyway, as always.)

After that they wind up in a bookstore, which is how Niall finds himself staring at the newly published companion book _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by J.K. Rowling. 

"I've got that book if you'd like to borrow it," Gemma says, startling him so much that he jumps. She places a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Sorry.”

Niall smiles sheepishly. "Harry bought too, actually. Thanks, though."

"So- Have you managed to read the series?" she asks, then, whilst walking around slowly.

Niall nods as he follows her. "Well, sort of. I had asked Harry to read them to me a few months after we met. I just...didn't want to read them alone."

"You really did worry about Dumbledore then, huh?"

Niall rolls his eyes at himself. "So much it literally made me sick sometimes."

"Well, it's no excuse for saying what you said-"

"I know-"

"But I can understand a bit of the feeling. If someone had spoiled it for me before I could read it, I'd have sacked them."

Niall snorts. "Duly noted for future reference, just in case."

"Like- If you hurt him,” she chirps. “Because if you hurt him _ever_ again, Niall, I swear-"

"I won't," Niall promises. "I never will. I know you don't trust me, but-"

"It's not that I don't trust you," Gemma says, drawing him to a stop in the middle of an aisle. "Because I do trust that you love him, and I trust that you've taken care of him, I just- He's my baby brother. Whether or not I trust you is irrelevant when I just need to know that you won't do or say anything to hurt him."

"I won't."

Gemma smiles. "You know... Somehow I trust you anyway."

And, well, if that doesn’t make Niall’s chest feel all warm and fuzzy…  
X

Niall's throwing the last of Harry's bags into the boot of Harry's car when he hears the front door and close. He looks up to see Anne walking towards him, a small smile on her lips.

"Hi," she says softly. 

"H-Hi," Niall whispers back. It’s the first time they’ve been alone since they had their talk in the kitchen. It’s not that he’s nervous – not really, he just… Okay, he’s kind of nervous.

"I know it probably hasn't seemed like it, but it's been a pleasure having you here."

He smiles warmly. "Thank you. It's been a pleasure to be here, regardless of everything that has happened. You have a lovely home and a great family. I hope that one day I can meet the rest of your family and...maybe become a part of it."

"Come back for Christmas and you'll meet everyone," Anne suggests. "This house is always far too packed, but I'm sure I can make room for one more."

"I'd love to."

Niall and Harry spent last Christmas apart. Harry had come home, whilst Niall had hopped on a plane back to Ireland. They’d spend the whole two week holiday apart and, needless to say, neither one of them had liked it one bit. It’s a _soulmate_ thing. So, the possibility of spending Christmas with Harry sort of…warms his soul.

"I wanted to tell you that I saw his Tattoo last night – when he took off his shirt,” Anne tells him.

Niall thinks about the 'X' marked around word _‘hate’_ , and the word _'love'_ written in identical script above it.

"How'd he manage to do that?"

"The artist managed to get just close enough that it looks like it's connected from a far, but it isn't," Niall explains. “And because it didn’t actually connect the original Tattoo, and there was no harm done, it didn’t move.”

"And it was your idea?" she guesses.

Niall nods. "I, um- I wanted it to be permanent. I wanted him to see the word _love_ every time he looks at it in the mirror. I wanted him to know that I didn't mean it, and that I never did- So I booked him a surprise appointment on our anniversary, and-"

He's cut off by all the air leaving his lungs as Anne's body collides with his own. "Thank you," she whispers. "Thank you for loving him."

Niall's arms circle around her waist and he finds himself sagging in to her as relief floods over him in one giant wave. He wants to tell her she doesn't have to thank him, wants to tell her that loving Harry feels just like breathing to him, wants to tell her so many things- And yet, he can't quite find the words. 

She pulls away from him a moment late and holds his face in her hands, the way only a mother can. "I trust you to take care of him. And I trust you to make him happy, the way I _know_ that he's going to make you happy."

As if on cue, the front door opens again – and it's Harry. And Gemma, and Dustin, and Robin. Harry's grinning as he steps off the front stoop and walks towards them. 

"And _you_ ," Anne says softly, bringing her son into her arms and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You take care of _him_ too."

"Of course," Harry murmurs. He raises a curious eyebrow as he looks at Niall over her shoulder.

Niall shrugs, smile tugging at his lips. Maybe he'll tell Harry, but maybe he won't have to.

"Have a safe drive, yeah? Text me when you get home."

Harry rolls his eyes dramatically. "Yes, mum. Love you, mum."

"I love you too," she says, making her way back up the driveway. "We'll see you boys at Christmas."

Harry's brow furrows in confusion as he looks at his mum, and then at Niall over the hood of the car. "Is that what the two of you doing out here? Planning Christmas _without_ me?"

Niall smirks. "More or less."

X

"We're okay, right?"

Niall looks sideways at Harry from the passenger, eyebrow cocked. "You and me?"

"Yeah..."

"We're fine, Harry," Niall assures him. "We're better than fine, we're- Great."

Harry seems to breath a real sigh of relief, at that. "Meeting my family wasn't...too much?"

"I mean- It was hard, but...I get it now. I think I get you more now. And, you were right, weren’t you? They came around."

Harry smirks proudly. “I was right, wasn’t I?

Niall rolls his eyes, however fondly. "I love you. And everything is fine."

"Oh, yeah, no- I know." A mischievous look takes over the features on his face, then, as he glances briefly at Niall. "That gas station we stopped at on the way there is just up the road from here."

Niall looks sideways, smirk settling into his lips. "You hungry?"

"Starving."

Five minutes later, Harry's got Niall pressed up against the bathroom door. Niall's pants and trousers are down around his knees, he's using one hand to hold his shirt up high on his tummy, he's got the other hands tangled in Harry's hair, and his dick is in Harry's mouth.

It's warm and it's wet and it's wonderful – and Harry sucks Niall's dick like he was _made_ for it, like there's nothing better in the entire world. He alternates between bobbing his head on the tip, and taking him all the way in, and he licks up and down the shaft and presses the tip of tongue against the slit. He's a fucking God.

Niall knows he isn't going to last long. It's only been a few days since he's gotten any action, but it already feels like it's been far too long. He chokes on a moan when Harry swallows him down, takes him in deep down his throat and hums. His dick twitches inside of Harry's mouth. He throbs, and he grunts and he tugs at Harry's hair all at the same time. 

He can feel it in the pit of his stomach, that little pool of heat and pleasure and desire. It's so strong he can practically taste it-

And then it's _there_. Fireworks explode behind his eyelids, his whole body tenses, and a sob rips its way out of his throat as he loses his load down Harry's throat. 

Harry laps it up, eyes impossibly wide and innocent and beautiful and lustful as he stares up at Niall through long, thick eyelashes. He's beautiful like this; beautiful all the time. And, fuck, Niall loves him.

Niall barely has a chance to catch his breath, doesn't even get a minute to tuck himself back into his pants when Harry kisses him, licking into his mouth. He can taste himself on Harry's tongue, and- Jesus fuck-

" _I fucking love you_ ," Niall whispers, breathless and panting against Harry’s mouth. 

Harry grins, tucks Niall back into his pants for him and then kisses him again. "I fucking love you too."

Niall arches an eyebrow as Harry moves towards the sink to wash his hands. "You don't want me to get you off?"

Harry looks at him through the mirror. "I can wait. I'd rather you take me home first."


End file.
